Page 5 of Salvation
“What are we supposed to tell people, Jane? Do you know how this will look? Do you ever stop to think?”
The door muffles my grandmother’s response, so I lean closer, pressing my ear to the wood.
“She’ll be a disgrace, that girl,” my grandfather says in response to whatever my grandmother had said. “Just like her mother.”
My fingers curl into fists, the nails leaving marks on my skin.
I hate him. I hate him so much. My mom was the best person I know. I don’t know what it means to be a disgrace, but his voice sounds like mine when I eat something that tastes bad, like he’s trying to scrape it off his tongue. So I know it’s nothing good. Maybe he’s the disgrace.
Not wanting to hear another word, I shove off the door and take off down the hall. I don’t know where I’m going, only that I don’t want to stay here.
Bursting through the door, I run down brick stairs, over a concrete path, and through a garden leading to a row of trees. I don’t stop running until my feet stumble over a root. My knees hit the ground, and I cry out.
I want my mom.
I just want my mom.
My nose is running, but I don’t move to wipe it away. Lying down, I press my cheek to the ground and cry. Each sob feels like I’m falling apart from the inside. I hate it here. I hate my grandparents. I miss my mom, and worst of all, I think I hate her too. She was my best friend, and she left me. Not on purpose, but I’m still mad at her for leaving.
“Are you okay?”
I’d been so lost in my misery that I didn’t hear anyone approaching. I shove myself up, standing and wiping grass from my clothes.
A boy stares back at me with bright blue eyes and a look of concern. He’s the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.
Hurriedly, I use the back of my hand to swipe away the tears staining my cheeks, hoping he doesn’t notice—most boys my age wouldn’t—but his eyes track the movement, brows dipping together as he studies me.
“I’m fine,” I say, sniffing and taking in my surroundings.
Trees circle me in a little clearing, standing tall like soldiers. They’re pretty as a soft breeze blows through the branches, taking away some of the summer heat. I turn my attention back to the boy. He’s watching me still.
“My dad says when a girl says she’s fine, she usually isn’t.”
My hands go to my hips, and I jut out my chin. Mom always said it’s what I do when I am about to be too stubborn for my own good.
“Well, he’s wrong. I’m fine.”
The boy shakes his head. “My dad’s never wrong.”
My chin lifts higher. “Well, he is this time.”
He tilts his head, his mouth twitching in the corner. There’s a spark in his eye as he studies me again, and I try not to squirm. I feel like an ant under a microscope. After an eternity, he drops my gaze and starts walking toward me. I tense, but he walks by me. Turning my head, I watch as he keeps going. He makes it a couple of steps before he stops, looking back at me.
“Well, are you coming?” he asks, and my brows press down.
“I’m not coming with you,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t know you.”
He smiles, and my heart skips a beat. “I’m Campbell.”
His smile is so warm that I can’t help but give him a small smile, too. “I’m Ivy.”
“Well, Ivy, are you coming?”
I lift a brow. “To where?”
“To the place I go to cry so no one sees.”
Chapter 3
